


Like Coming Home

by GenericUsername01



Series: PRIDE MONTH [8]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Badass T'Pring, Come on, F/F, Sexual Slavery, Soul Bond, and badass gaila too tbh, compulsory heterosexuality, gaila has angst and issues, okay seriously why is that not a tag?, pride month writing prompts, stonn is just as sexist and presumptuous as he was in his two (2) lines in tos, that's what the warnings are for btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-21 00:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericUsername01/pseuds/GenericUsername01
Summary: Prompt #1: Coming OutPrompt #2: au where non telepathic people have telepathic connections with their soulmates, with Vulcans being considered to not have soulmates since they can forge telepathic connections with anyone compatible (from Elaine_ORoake)T'Pring and Spock are t'hy'lara. But not to each other. This presents some complications.Alternate title: T'Pring and the Epic Quest to Reach Peak Space Lesbianism





	Like Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a prompt that Elaine_ORoake left on one of my other fics and was probably intended as a spirk prompt but I thought that would be too easy, because then Spock having a soulmate would just be explained away as him being half-human. Plus I always write spirk and trek is in dire need of more femslash, though I might do a companion fic to this from Spock's pov.
> 
> I know this is like the rarepair of all rarepairs, and tbh the only reason I thought about it was because it came up as a suggested ship when I was adding tags to a different femslash fic, and I saw it and I thought, of hey. That's an idea. So now here's the fic that literally nobody but me wanted.

T'Pring hadn't known there was anything abnormal about her mind until the day she was taken before the healers to be bonded to Spock.

T'Pau stood solemn before the two children and began intoning in ancient Golic. "Thy katras have been brought before me today for the ceremonial joining, so thee will be drawn together at the appointed time, to the appointed place. I will now wed thee, S'chn T'gai Spock and Nashih T'Pring, in the sacred ritual of the ancients."

She placed a gnarled old hand on each child's face.

Her mind-touch was reserved, clinical, only going as far as it needed to. It seemed to drag on longer than was strictly necessary, however. T'Pring felt the matriarch searching, searching... there. The bond. Young and unfulfilled, the most beautiful thing T'Pring had ever seen. It was silver and cool and soothing, like a balm on her mind, like a pool of icy water on a hot day. Luxurious.

Two, actually. There were two bonds. The other one was further away in the mindscape, gold and warm and utterly uninteresting to T'Pring.

T'Pau withdrew and the three of them were all back in their own heads.

The matriarch cast her eyes to the sky. "May Surak help you both," she said. "You each are t'hy'la, but not to each other."

 "What is the meaning of this?" T'Verun, T'Pring's mother, demanded.

"These children cannot be bonded. They are already in possession of t'hy'la bonds and must seek out their natural soulmates. If they do not find them before their first pon farrs, they will die."

"It was agreed that our two clans would be bound together through marriage," T'Verun said. "Dowry was paid. Honor was laid claim."

"I do not go back on my word. I have had no more hand in this than you have," Sarek said. "Circumstance alone has forsaken our arrangement. As such, honor is sated, and I expect full recompense for the dowry."

T'Verun's eyes flashed. "This is shameful. I suspect a farce. I would have the children examined by another healer, one who is not matriarch of your clan."

"Very well," Sarek said. Beside him, Amanda's features had shifted subtly, though T'Pring could not possibly guess what emotion that was meant to convey.

* * *

They went to another healer. And then another. And another.

T'Pring could not feel the familial bond to her mother at all. It was so tightly shielded, it was like it was not even there. She could not imagine what she had done to warrant such treatment. The existence of the bonds was not her fault.

Her mother would not speak or look at her either, but it T'Pring longer to notice that, and it paled in comparison to having their bond cut off. She clung to her other familial bonds instead, clutching at them for support.

A ball had been arranged to celebrate the bonding of the Heir of Surak. It was too late to cancel.

As soon as the party of Vulcans arrived at Sarek's manor, T'Verun transferred the dowry credits back to him and disappeared into the crowd to converse with other guests, leaving her daughter alone with those who would have been her in-laws.

Spock turned to her, and by silent agreement, the children slipped out of the ballroom and into the gardens. Amanda's gardens were the most exotic and well-tended on Vulcan. They were a pride to the House of Surak. She may be human, but she did her mate's clan great honor.

T'Pring had always had a secret fondness for her. She and Spock frequently associated together for the purposes of academic assistance and intellectually stimulating conversation. Whenever she came over to Spock's house, Amanda would make them both sash-savas tea and kreyla with the alien Earth jam that T'Pring would never admit she loved. She smiled at her, and T'Pring allowed her emotional controls to slacken slightly in her presence. She attempted to encourage Spock to do the same, but he was quite insistent on his need to be the perfect Vulcan at all times and in all ways.

It was always preferable to associate at Spock's house rather than at T'Pring's.

When discussions of potential suitors to be Spock's betrothed eventually arose, Amanda insisted that it be T'Pring and would entertain no other possibilities. She insisted that she had her own logic in this-- that "Spock needed someone to look out for him." Near everyone was confused by this statement. In a further twist of illogic, Sarek conceded to this request and allowed his royal-born son to be betrothed to a poor girl from a lower clan, whose social-climbing mother was only after the House of Surak's money and their prestigious clan name.

T'Pring had no desire to stand in the shadow of another. To be known simply as the consort of a legend. As high as her regard for Spock was, she was immensely displeased with the idea of being bonded to him.

She was also smart enough to never once express this.

"I apologize for the events of today," Spock said. "I have created a spectacle of us. You have been disgraced publicly because of me."

"No such thing has occurred," T'Pring said. "And even if you perceive it as thus, it is no matter. Neither you nor I could have done anything about it. In addition, it is both of us who have been disgraced. The blame, if there is to be any, does not belong to you alone."

 "Illogical," Spock said. "You are blameless."

T'Pring sighed-- an unnervingly emotional gesture, but then, she had never tried to be a paragon of Vulcan high-society decorum. She didn't have half as much to prove as Spock did, but her control was greater nonetheless, due to her full-blooded heritage. Any emotional expressions on her part were only what she willingly permitted.

"Once again, Spock, you fail to recognize that I am a being without flaw, clearly, and my logic is unassailable."

He arched an eyebrow and responded dryly. "Ah, yes. How foolish of me. You are perfection incarnate."

"An acceptable description," she said. "Since you have acknowledged this, you will also have to acknowledge that you are blameless as well and I am not disgraced in any way. I show great wisdom in my choice of associates, Spock. You would do well to remember this."

His face betrayed no affection, of course. "Of course," he said. "Thank you."

She nodded. "This was an acceptable turn of events. I am satisfied with our relationship remaining platonic in nature. In addition, t'hy'la bonds are a great blessing. They are to be treasured and revered."

"Indeed," Spock said. "No doubt an announcement will be made by T'Pau posthaste, likely at this very gathering. The news should circulate the planet quickly. I estimate the two other Vulcans to whom we are bonded will be discovered within a week."

"A month at the most," T'Pring said. "And then we shall both bond with our t'hy'lara and enter the Vulcan Science Academy."

"And we will be posted together on an exploratory science vessel. I have the connections to ensure it."

"Indeed," she said. "Yes. This is a most pleasing development. I look to our future with anticipation, Spock."

"As do I, T'Pring."

* * *

Psi-null species cannot actively project thoughts to their soulmates. They have been trying and failing for centuries, despite overwhelming, abundant scientific evidence proving its impossibility. However, telepathic species-- like Vulcans and Betazoids and Deltans-- can project. Only once the bond is fulfilled, however. A preliminary bond is a preliminary bond no matter the species. It allows for awareness of the other's existence, safety, and vague impressions of their emotional state.

T'Pring mainly gets senses of stress and fear and danger.

It has been an entire year already, and no other children have been discovered as having t'hy'lara bonds. The only logical conclusion is that their bondmates are not Vulcan.

Spock predicts his is a human, given his mother's heritage. He has confided in T'Pring a desire to go to Earth in search of them.

T'Pring doesn't have that. She cannot produce a reasonable estimate for what species her t'hy'la may come from. She knows only that he is not Vulcan.

She imagines what he is like. No. She does not imagine, she postulates.

Hey t'hy'la is someone she is destined to meet and to love like no other. There is an 89% chance that he is of a Federation species, as calculated with the expected amount of contact she will have with non-Federation species in mind, given her choice of career. That still leaves an unfortunate 11% chance that her soulmate is a Klingon or a Romulan or an Orion or any other number of hostile alien species. 

She hopes this is not the case, for obvious reasons. It would not do to be inescapably drawn to an enemy of the Federation. T'Pring is a loyal, law-abiding citizen, and she plans to stay that way.

It would be a shame to have to forsake her t'hy'la.

* * *

Gaila doesn’t remember much before the age of five. 

She remembers the scent of home and the feeling of being warm. She remembers the trees and the stars and fire in the hearth. She remembers poverty and tattered clothes and two skimpy meals a day. 

She remembers her mother, hugging her. She remembers siblings, but she can’t place who or how many. 

She tells herself this is okay. That it’s probably for the best. 

She doesn’t remember much before the age of five. Before the age of five doesn’t matter. Five is when her training began. When the reality of her life began. Five is when the people came and took her away and gave her mother a large stack of money. 

They took her to a hutch. It was a long, squat building made of thatched straw and thin beams, way out in the middle of nowhere in the jungle. There were other children there. 

Correction. There were other  _girls._  

The hutch was called a fesin, a place of training. It began at age five. It lasted for nine years. A full primary education. Or at least, as much of one as lodubyaln needed. 

She was trained to dance and sing and talk politely and tell stories. She learned to gamble and to flirt. She learned how to never let discomfort show. She learned how to walk seductively, confidently, while wearing nothing more than scraps of fabric. She learned how to punch and how to wield a poison blade. 

She did not learn to read. She did not learn to write. She could not spell her name should someone ask her, not that anyone ever would. She did not learn math, but she taught herself to count the years, to figure out how long she had left. 

She didn’t know why she counted down. She certainly wasn’t excited for it. Dreading it, more like, but after all these years sleeping on the dirt floor of the fesin in a pile with other sweaty, grubby little girls, the idea of being someone’s pampered, precious thing was… well, it was almost enticing. And she hated that. It made her throat burn with bile and her head spin with pain, and goddamn she hated it, but it sounded appealing. 

Warm food. Clean clothes. A soft bed. To be treasured and cared for rather than discarded and treated like garbage, slapped and hit whenever she screwed up, screamed at whenever something went wrong, insults hurled at her simply because it was Tuesday and the Mistress was in a bad mood. 

It wasn’t all bad. She reminded herself of that. The Mistress was sometimes kind. The other girls weren’t so bad. The training was fun, in a dull, senseless sort of way. She played cards. She danced. She fluttered her eyelashes and learned to be an excellent conversationalist. 

She stood out at the hesin. Red hair was the rarest color on Orion. Most Orions had a wild mane of green or jet black hair, not like hers, hers that poured out in curls that looked orange against her skin. 

Her fourteenth birthday came, and so ended her education. 

She was taken to an auction. 

She went for 7.5 million dejebbits. The baseline price was five million. 

Her etadubran was rich. He was in his fifties, with graying hair and a lined face and a large gut. He had kind eyes and horrible breath. 

And then his eyes were not-so-kind when he looked her over. They were hungry, predatory. Appreciative. 

“Hello,” he said, smiling. “I am to be your etadubran. My name is Hojovun. You may call me Master.” 

“Yes, Master,” she said demurely, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He stared at her for a long moment. 

“Your name will be Kiva,” he said decisively.  

“Yes, Master.” 

* * *

He took her home and he fucked her and Gaila was encouraging and submissive throughout the entire thing. Then she went to bed and she cried. She didn’t know why. This was always what was going to happen. She knew what her fourteenth birthday meant.   

She had been counting down. 

* * *

 T'Pring suddenly keeled over in pain and fear and what she could only describe as emotional agony. She cried out, gasping, curling up on the bottom of her learning pod. Tears streamed down her face and she whimpered. Teachers ran over to assist her, but it didn't matter, it didn't matter.

Her t'hy'la was in agony and T'Pring could do nothing.

* * *

 "I wish to court you," Stonn said.

"I decline," T'Pring replied.

"No. Hear my words," he said. "You are ri-telsu. This is a dangerous state to be. I am an acceptable candidate and frankly above your status. You will not find a better match, and should be grateful for my attentions. Your family is of low bearing and in need of the money our union would gain. Logically, this should not even be a choice. Only a fool would decline me."

"Only a fool would accept you," she said. "You are repulsive mentally. You only propose this arrangement because you are attracted to me sexually and believe I have no other options."

"There is no guarantee you will meet your t'hy'la before your first pon farr," he said. "In addition, whoever he is is not Vulcan. He may behave illogically and reject you. You would do well to create a preliminary bond with another as a safeguard."

"Stonn, every other girl in Shi'Kahr has rejected you. Why would you believe me to be any different?"

He floundered, mouth opening and closing.

T'Pring tilted her chin up. "To make use of Standard terminology, I would now ask that you kindly fuck off."

* * *

Hojovun was a kind master. He liked to dress her up in jewels and pretty things that he let her keep. He liked to have her waltz around the house in revealing silks and drape herself over him like a shawl. He even liked how small and young she was. 

Gaila had been confused by that, at first. She did not look beautiful. Cute, maybe, but not beautiful. She was still very clearly a kid. She was short and scrawny and had knobby knees and bad acne and a voice that was still changing. But Hojovun seemed to like her all the better for it. 

She became pregnant when she was sixteen. He had it aborted. 

He sold her soon after. Said she was too old now. Used up. Like there was a limited amount of sex that one could have before they lost all appeal. 

She was given as a gift to a spoiled playboy, a politician’s son. He had… an appetite. He would have her almost every day, sometimes more than once. He wasn’t like Hojovun, he didn’t care about her conversational skills or her poker ability. He did, however, make her dance a lot. He liked to see her exhausted. 

He would loan her out to his friends sometimes. They gave good tips, sometimes. They liked to bring her gifts and see her gush over the small luxuries and little treasures that they threw out like garbage. Plus, all too often, she knew, they had a crush on her. 

She was slowly becoming beautiful. Her voice was done changing. Her acne was clearing. Her frame became fuller, transitioning from a child’s body to a woman’s, but not quite there yet. 

So she teased the boys and endured their remarks and let them call her a slut and bring her gifts and get into her pants—not that she wore pants. She saved up the jewelry and the trinkets and the tips and dreamed of buying her own freedom. 

It wasn’t going to be enough. 

She continued to allow the boys to court her, in their own way. 

One of them fell in love. Her came to her on his knees, begging for her hand in marriage, promising to buy her out of her contract.  

She said yes. 

* * *

T'Pring did not attend the Vulcan Science Academy. She became the second Vulcan to ever decline admission in solidarity with Spock.

She instead went to the Shi'Kahr Institute of Technology and got a doctorate in anthropology and the study of alien cultures. She wrote her thesis on the disparity in the frequency of soulmates between Vulcans and non-Vulcans. Her research included the twenty-five most prominent Federation species. She was meticulous in her collection of data.

She was posted on the Intrepid as the on-board doctor of anthropology and xenocultural expert. The Intrepid was a Vulcan science and exploratory vessel, advancing Federation borders and the scientific canon. T'Pring was frequently employed on away missions.

She was unbonded and midway through her twenties. Time was of the essence. Finding her t'hy'la was her top priority.

She created a cumulative list of all that she knew of her.

Her. T'Pring had come to the realization that her attractions lay solely with those of her own gender. Logically, then, as she was destined to love and be attracted to her soulmate, they must be female. She knew their bond was not of a platonic nature, though such a thing was possible.

This conclusion came as a shocking relief. She had not realized just how much she dreaded the prospect of being bonded to a man until that prospect disappeared. She was self-aware enough to admit that her reaction had been highly emotional, and her previous assumptions had been highly illogical.

Now, the idea of her t'hy'la being male was almost laughably preposterous-- if T'Pring was given to such inclinations, of course.

Really, though, all that T'Pring knew of her t'hy'la was her gender and that her childhood had been remarkably unpleasant. In truth, she had no idea what to expect. She could only say for certain that she was destined for a surprise.

* * *

Orion mating ceremonies end in public sex. Gaila made sure to put on a good show. 

Her husband—Viltam—took her back to his house, laughing and smiling the whole way. 

“God, you have no idea how happy you make me,” he said. 

“Oh, I think I do. I think the whole town does,” she teased. He blushed the green of the jungle and the sight brought a smile to her lips. 

He was cute. Intelligent, if a bit naïve. One of the more tolerable of her last master’s friends. He would be a perfectly fine husband. 

She almost felt guilty putting the sleeping powder in his drink. 

Almost. Mostly she felt euphoric and terrified and more alive than she’d ever been in her life. 

She got together a bag. She stuffed a change of clothes, some food, and all her sellable goods into it. She gave the house and her husband one last look, then sprinted out the door.  

She was a free woman now. The worst Viltam could do was file a missing person’s report and hire a private investigator. Gaila intended to be long gone and untraceable by then. There would be no runaway slave ad in the papers, there would be no bounty on her head, there would be no painfully accurate description of her listed alongside a contact number. She was free. 

* * *

She went to a bar where people knew better than to ask questions and hired transport to Federation space. Then she went to the nearest starbase and looked into contacting the T’Prar Foundation. 

The Foundation took her to a Deltan reorientation village in the Triciatu system. Arriving at the camp was strange. They had her wait in a registration office for hours. Someone put a blanket around her shoulders, as if that would help somehow. 

“Do you know where you are?” 

“The Delta Triciatu system,” she answered. 

“Do you know today’s date?” 

“No.” 

“What is your full legal name?” 

She had to think about it for a second. 

“Gaila… Vro, I think.” 

“And why are you here?” 

She held her head up defiantly, proudly. “I’m an escaped slave.” 

“Is there a warrant out for you?” 

“No. I got married. I’m free.” 

“Do you need the marriage to be annulled?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Do you believe you are in any danger from your husband?” 

“No.” 

“From any previous masters?” 

She thought about it. “I don’t think so.” 

"What are your skills?" 

"Um, dancing. Gambling. Sex, obviously," she said. "And, um, when i was nine I swiped a padd off a man who came to visit the fesin. I learned everything I could about how it worked and was put together. So I guess coding and computer engineering."

The social worker smiled.

* * *

She was twenty-eight when her planet got destroyed. The Intrepid was near the Klingon border at the time and couldn't make it there in time to help.

The ship shut down. The telepathic assault of six billion katras going out at once  _paralyzed_ them. 37% of the crew had to be admitted to medbay. 62% experienced emotional compromise so severe as to be incapacitating. 8% had absolutely all of their bonds severed. One crewmember slipped into a coma. Forty into healing trances.

T'Pring felt sharp pain as her bonds to her brother and her sister snapped abruptly. Her mother's was filled with distress.

It was the first thing T'Pring had felt from her in eight years. She did not care for it and promptly blocked the bond.

Her t'hy'la bond remained. Relief flooded her, and she chastised herself for her illogic. Of course it remained. Her t'hy'la had likely been nowhere near the destruction.

She gave the bond a mental caress and gathered it close to her. Precious.

* * *

Gaila was screaming, thrashing about in the emergency medevac. The survivors of the Battle of Vulcan were being taken quickly back to Starfleet Medical.

54% of her body was covered in burns. They were growing her new skin grafts in petri dishes.

She felt a wave of reassurance and comfort travel across her soul bond, and she was once again immensely grateful for it. Her soulmate was and always had been a source of comfort to her. She rarely ever felt negative emotions, and when she did, they weren't overwhelming. Her soulmate was able to project emotions to a moderate degree. Gaila vaguely wondered what that meant.

They were destined to meet, and yet Gaila wondered if she even wanted to. Men... scared her. She knew that was irrational, that not all men were like her previous masters and the boys that she'd been loaned out to. But a person who gets attacked repeatedly by multiple vicious dogs might come to fear dogs. And a person who'd been abused by multiple vicious men might come to fear men.

She knew her soulmate was destined to love her. Required to. But love can fade over time, and Gaila has already felt her soulmate's love. Who is to say it won't be revoked upon meeting her?

Dr. Dehner said she had a damaged goods complex. She said that was common in abuse victims. Gaila told her she hadn't been abused, per se, that word didn't quite fit.

She never brought it up again.

* * *

T'Pring transferred to the Enterprise because like hell was she going to give up her career to settle down and make babies with Stonn. Nero had set out to destroy Vulcans, but T'Pring will be damned if she lets him destroy her. There are a number of Vulcans who have joined Starfleet as of late. T'Pring is one of many.

She has explained it to her mother logically on many occasions and if the woman refuses to see reason, well, kaiidth.

* * *

They meet on a project, decoding an ancient language. They aren't alone, of course, there's a linguist who's been assigned to help them. T'Pring explains nuance and the culture of a long-dead civilization and the significance of certain phrasings, and Gaila nods along and tweaks her computer translation program and the linguist fills in the rest.

At one point their hands meet while passing over a padd, and T'Pring knows. She knows the mind-touch of her t'hy'la, what her background feelings are like, the sensation of her thoughts just barely out of reach.

Gaila looks up, eyes wide and mouth in a startled 'o'. She blushes forest green and busies herself back in her work.

She knows, then. Her reaction is most illogical, however. Why would one behave that way upon meeting their soulmate? Did T'Pring fail to live up to her expectations somehow? Has she already been judged lacking through their brief association?

Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.

T'Pring resolves to woo her, this Gaila, her beautiful t'hy'la. She will show her devotion and love like the girl has never known. And whatever Gaila is willing to give her, T'Pring will return it with love.

Yes, she thinks. Gaila Vro shall be cherished, and T'Pring will see to that.

 

 


End file.
